Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
After a shake of my head, I go through the routine of getting ready for bed, and it’s not long before I’m beneath the covers, my phone’s alarm set for early the next morning to get ready for my suit-finding mission.
I’ll pack my bags otherwise before I go and be ready to grab it and head straight to the train after.
I’m dozing when my phone buzzes with a message.
Instantly, I bolt upright and seize my phone from the bedside table.
Apologies. I was in a meeting and only saw your message now.
Oh my God, he doesn’t hate me. At least, not overtly, right? Progress. I gulp down air and flop on my pillow, staring at Florian’s text. He’s typing.
Would you happen to have a moment now to talk? I realize it’s late, and you likely won’t see this ’til tomorrow.
I blink. He actually wants to talk to me?
I’m here
Moments later, my phone lights up with an incoming call.
“Hi?” I sound sleepy, even though my heart’s racing.
“Matty. I’m sorry to call so late, but I wanted to get back to you.”
I gulp. Whatever he’s going to say, here it comes. Bracing myself, I close my eyes. And what he says next is definitely not what I expect.
“I owe you an explanation.”
I suck back a breath. It takes a moment for his words to register.
“You do?”
“I… I seem to have misplaced your suit. Or rather, the dry cleaners have. I called them again today between meetings.” He sounds… embarrassed? This can’t be Florian.
“You—lost my suit?” My voice climbs with surprise. What?
“The dry cleaners can’t seem to find it, but they’re searching. They’ve been searching the last three days. I wanted to call you with the news. I realize now I should have just let you know right away what happened. My mistake.”
My brain’s racing along with my heart, trying to make sense of what he’s telling me. Confession time. “I called Richard today, but he didn’t know anything about it.”
“He wouldn’t.” There’s an awkward pause. “Because I didn’t tell him about it. I took your suit in myself.”
“You did what?” I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Florian must have been body snatched because there’s no way this makes any sense. For a moment, I gawp. “I’m sure you have way more important things to be doing.”
“This was important too.”
I swallow hard, also not expecting that.
“I would go down to the dry cleaner myself and insist they search again, but I’m in New York, as I’ve been the last two days and through to Sunday night.”
“Oh.” It’s all I can manage. I sigh. I’m headed to the rental shops in the morning. “It’s not your fault… You tried.”
“It’s not good enough.” His voice is tight.
“I realize you need the suit this weekend. There’s no time to have a suit made for you, but I insist on replacing it, even if it is ready-to-wear.
Find what you can tomorrow, and I’ll have Richard cover the cost. Just ring him when you’ve found something, and he’ll take payment as per my instructions. ”
“You… you don’t need to do that.” I say it only halfheartedly, because I’m trying to be polite, but I’m also obviously in need of help here.
“I need to, and I want to.” His voice is unexpectedly soft then. “I’m sorry for letting you down and not letting you know sooner.”
“It’s okay, I forgive you. Don’t worry about it.”
“I do worry about it.”
“Okay, well… thanks.” I swallow hard. It’s impossible to make sense of his generosity. “That’s really kind of you. Even if you’re worried. I really appreciate it.”
“It’s the least I can do. I must leave now, as I have a dinner meeting next. Good luck with finding a suit tomorrow.”
“Thanks.”
“Goodbye.” He hangs up.
I flop back on the pillows and toss my phone onto the duvet with a crinkle. I’m way too awake to sleep now. And flustered, because Florian was thinking about me. And he felt bad about losing my suit? Which is reasonable, I suppose, but still.
It’s about then that I realize something. Two somethings. First, my heart’s still going a mile a minute—and second, I’m getting hard.
Who the hell gets hard over a lost suit? But it’s not the suit that’s done it, of course.
In the shadows of the room, with the soft glow of the streetlights beyond the window, I let myself acknowledge that I’m attracted to Florian.
Despite it being totally pointless or real or anything like that.
Just wistful thoughts that have appeared like the promise of a summer’s breeze on a sultry day.
My eyes slide shut as I drift into daydreaming about him, imagining Florian with his glossy, dark hair and pale skin, luminous green eyes, and stubbled jawline. He has lips that are gloriously red, insistently red, and totally kissable. What I’d give to taste them. Have him taste me back.
And what I’d give to have him surrender. To press him beneath me.
He’s just a fantasy. But what a fantasy. My fingers slide into my boxers to tease myself.
And fuck, I shiver even at the thought of him, skin to skin.
I can’t stop thinking about the way he looked at me before we went into Sotheby’s. Like I mattered. Like I was important to him.
Which is a dizzying thought, one that’s too much to dare think about or acknowledge.
My hand works my cock, each stroke increasing in tempo, ’til I find myself breathless and stiff. I toss back the duvet and wriggle out of my boxers, the cool air bringing instant goose bumps.
Or is it imagining Florian that brings them? At the very least, this is good wank material, so I may as well enjoy the moment because no one will be the wiser.
Imagine his fingers between mine. Imagine his fingers on my cock. And his mouth, tasting me. His tongue like honey.
And God, he’s fucking sexy. Thankfully, my subconscious worked that out before my brain did.
Imagine him wanking. What a luxurious sight that would be, watching him get off in front of me.
My hand works faster. I groan, arching my back with pleasure. Greedy, impatient, I keep going ’til blood rushes in my ears.
And fuck, it’s moments later before the ache in my balls leaves me shuddering and spurting hot over my belly and hand, leaving a sticky mess as the very tangible result of my daydream.
I lie there, gasping for breath, legs trembling for a moment. The world spins.
God, I needed that. Finally, after lying there in a blissed-out state ’til I can at least catch my breath, I reach over for a tissue to clean myself off.
Enough of that, I tell myself firmly. It’s just attraction. It doesn’t mean anything real. Or that he feels the same way, or anything close. It’s just brain chemistry doing its brain chemistry thing over impossible situations.
But oh, that felt so fucking good. Even if Florian is nothing more than a wank fantasy.